IC-NRLF 


GIFT  OF 


A    STUDY 


OF 


Consciousness,  Intelligence  and  Matter 


BY 


IDIR,.    GKEO. 


SACRAMENTO: 

PRINTED  FOR  GEO.  PYBURN  BY 
J    N.  LARKIN  &  SON 


A    STUDY 


OF 


Consciousness,  Intelligence  and  Matter 


BY 


IDIR.   GKEJO. 


SACRAMENTO: 

PRINTED  FOR  GEO.  PYBURN  BY 

J    N.  LARKIN  &  SON 

1901 


PROLOG 


The  original  of  this  paper  was  written  in  1881,  for  pub- 
lication in  one  of  the  scientific  magazines.  By  reason  of 
a  change  of  policy  abont  this  time  in  the  conduct  of  the 
magazine  in  question,  the  paper  was  laid  aside  and  partly 
forgotten.  On  February  13,  1887,  it  was  read  in  its  pres- 
ent form  before  the  CRITIC  CLUB  of  Sacramento — the 
first  essay. 

Quite  recently,  in  reading  a  critical  notice  of  Prof. 
Ernst  Haeckel's  latest  work,  "THE  RIDDLE  OF  THE 
UNIVERSE,"  I  was  pleased  to  note  the  general  accordance 
of  the  ideas  herein  set  forth  concerning  the  (so  to  speak) 
intelligence  of*  matter  with  the  Jena  Professor's  idea  of  a 
"sole  substance;"  although  it  had  not  occurred  to  me  to 
label  them  MONISM.  I  concluded,  however,  to  publish 
the  essay  for  the  benefit  of  my  philosophic  friends,  as  a 
fairly  comprehensible  introduction  to  one  portion  of  the 
Monistic  philosophy. 

To  the  members — past  and  present — of  the  CRITIC 
CLUB,  I  present  this  essay,  asking  them  to  accept  it  as  a 
SOUVENIR  of  the  many  "feasts  of  reason"  of  which  we  have 
partaken  at  our  meetings  during  the  past  fourteen  years. 

G.  P. 

Sacramento,  February  13,  1901. 


A    STUDY      . 

-OF- 

CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INTELLIGENCE 


HYLAS.  *  *  I  see  you  turn  when  spoken  to,  and  shrink  when  burned. 
Prom  such  facts,  joined  with  my  personal  experiences,  I  infer  that  you  are 
sensitive  (conscious)  as  I  am;  and  *  *  I  infer  that  matter  is  not  sensitive 
(conscious)  because  it  shows  no  such  sign. — HERBERT  SPENCER. 

It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  express,  in  the  few  words 
of  a  title,  the  scope  of  an  essay  of  the  nature  of  this, 
which  I  have  the  honor  to  submit  to  your  consideration 
and  criticism  this  evening.  My  object  herein  is  to  an- 
alyze consciousness  and  intelligence,  with  a  view  of 
discovering  their  elements,  and  the  extent  of  their  dis- 
tribution in  the  universe.  Even  the  word  distribution, 
which  is  here  perforce  used,  is  somewhat  apt  to  mislead; 
for,  whereas  it  seems  to  convey  an  idea  of  diffusion 
from  a  center  or  point  of  accumulation,  the  intent  of 
the  word  in  its  present  connection  is  nearly  the  con- 
trary, namely:  existence  outside  of  or  beyond  those 
concentrated  and  organized  beings  whose  intelligence 
is  evident  and  acknowledged  by  all. 

And  while  I  am  aware  that  the  conclusions  delivered 
herein  are  opposed  to  the  commonly  accepted  teachings, 
and  may  possibly,  on  further  consideration,  be  found 
fallacious  and  untenable,  I  am  not  thereby  deterred 
from  presenting  them  in  their  present  form;  nor  do  I 
deem  an  apology  to  the  philosophic  hearer  necessary, 
because  I  conceive  that  the  consideration  and  orderly 
statement  of  the  several  facts  and  inferences  involved 
in  the  discussion  of  any  subject — especially  if  new — 
including  as  it  does  the  examination  in  detail  of  the 
related  ideas  going  to  make  up  the  several  propositions, 


4 

and  a  testing  of  their  congruity  or  cohesive  power,  has 
a  value  independent  of  the  truth  or  precision  of  the 
conclusions  reached  meanwhile.  For  besides  the  men- 
tal discipline  secured  by  the  discussion,  the  conclusions 
reached — even  though  false  or  inexact — furnish  new 
points  of  departure,  or  data,  on  which  by  comparison 
with  accepted  truths  to  found  dissent  and  corrections. 

Premising  that  by  "consciousness"  is  meant  the  sub- 
jective side  of  existence,  the  passive  cognition  of  the 
objective  non-ego,  together  with  the  cognition  of  the 
reaction  thereby  excited,  our  inquiry  will  be  directed 
mainly  to  the  discovery  of  the  ultimate  factor  in  con- 
sciousness and  its  relation  to  matter.  This  inquiry 
will  involve  an  incidental  examination  of  the  position 
assumed  by  Hylas,  viz.:  that  matter  shows  no  signs  of 
sensitiveness  (consciousness). 

Consciousness,  evidently,  is  to  the  individual  the 
central  fact,  or  more  precisely,  the  sum-total  of  exist- 
ence. There  can  only  be  present-consciousness;  and 
this  consists  of  the  impressions  made  by  outside  things 
at  the  moment,  together  with  the  memories  or  continu- 
ance of  impressions  made  heretofore.  It  is  the  sum  or 
resultant  of  all  the  impressions  experienced  by  its  sub- 
ject up  to  the  present  moment.  But  the  question  at 
once  suggested  is  this:  Since  when?  From  what  epoch 
are  these  impressions  or  experiences  to  be  reckoned? 
From  birth;  from  conception;  from  the  infancy  of  the 
race;  from  the  beginning  of  organic  life  on  the  globe; 
or  from  the  dim  past  in  the  ages  behind?  And  pre- 
cisely here  is  the  germ  of  the  argument,  the  inferential 
statement  of  the  problem. 

Let  us  leave  for  a  while  the  subjective  side  of  exist- 
ence and  turn  to  its  objective  side.  If  we  examine  and 
analyze  any  organized  being,  e.  g.,  a  man  or  plant,  we 
find  that  the  various  tissues  or  organs  are  composed  of 
the  common  material  of  the  planet,  arranged  in  such 


and  such  modes,  so  that  the  difference  between  this  and 
that  organ,  or  between  this  and  that  body,  consists 
solely  in  the  ratio  and  mode  of  arrangement  of  the  va- 
rious constituent  elements.  The  bulk  of  the  whole  is 
but  the  sum  of  the  bulk  of  the  atoms  and  molecules 
which  make  up  its  structure;  and  the  weight  of  the 
whole  is  no  more  than  the  sum  of  the  attractions  of  its 
constituent  atoms  for  those  of  the  earth.  Without  the 
original  matter  of  which  they  are  severally  composed, 
no  organized  bodies  would  exist;  unless  the  matter  were 
possessed  of  extension,  resistance,  weight,  etc.,  the  body 
which  it  composes  would  not  have  these  properties,  for 
the  whole  is  but  the  sum  of  all  its  parts,  and  anything 
not  found  in  the  parts  can  never  appear  in  the  whole. 

If,  further,  we  examine  by  the  light  of  scientific  con- 
clusions a  living  organized  being,  we  shall  find  that  its 
life — objectively  considered — consists  of  a  more  or  less 
coherent  and  co-ordinated  series  of  movements;  and 
this,  whether  we  consider  especially  the  so-called  or- 
ganic life  in  animal  or  plant,  or  the  life  of  relation  in 
animals,  the  voluntary  life — from  the  pursuit  of  prey 
by  a  hungry  carnivore  to  the  singing  of  an  aria  or  the 
painting  of  a  picture  by  cultivated  human  beings. 
Moreover,  we  are  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  these 
highly  complex  movements  of  the  whole  body  are  but 
the  resultants  of  the  movements  of  the  various  parts, 
organs,  molecules  and  atoms  of  which  it  is  made  up. 
Indeed,  the  physical  fact  is,  to  a  limited  extent,  demon- 
strable: we  can  see  the  cyclical  movement  of  the  blood, 
and  the  motions  of  the  muscular  and  osseous  appara- 
tus, and  feel  the  motion  of  the  air  in  the  larynx,  observe 
by  suitable  reflectors  the  vibrations  of  the  vocal  chords, 
and  with  the  unaided  eye,  the  motions  of  the  tongue 
and  the  changing  shape  of  the  buccal  cavity,  which  to- 
gether make  up  the  complex  motions  performed  in  sing- 
ing the  Marsellaise,  or  an  Ave  Maria.  Shall  we  then  stop 


abruptly  where  our  eyes  cease  to  be  of  use?  or,  in  the 
language  of  an  eminent  physicist  and  philosopher, 
permit  "the  vision  of  the  mind  to  supplement  the  vision 
of  the  eye,  and  impelled  by  an  intellectual  necessity, 
cross  the  boundaries  of  the  experimental  evidence," 
and  discover  in  the  motion  of  these  parts  and  organs, 
which  demonstrably  go  to  make  up  the  motion  of  the 
whole,  the  resultant,  and  only  the  resultant  of  the 
movements  of  their  constituent  parts,  down  even  to  the 
ultimate  atom?  Of  a  surety,  if  there  were  no  motion 
of  parts,  there  could  be  none  of  the  whole;  and  the  mo- 
tion of  the  latter  is  precisely  the  sum  and  resultant  of 
the  motion  of  the  former. 

Returning  now  to  the  subjective  side  of  existence:  if 
we  assert  that  the  same  principle  which  holds  good 
when  applied  to  matter  and  motion,  namely:  that  the 
whole  of  either  or  both  is  but  the  sum  of  their  several 
parts,  and  that  nothing  can  exist  in  the  whole  which 
does  not  exist  in  the  parts,  is  equally  applicable  to  con- 
sciousness, shall  we  strain  the  analogy?  I  think  not. 

A  certain  difficulty  presents  itself  in  discussing  this 
subject,  consequent  on  the  necessity  of  using  words 
having  specific  or  relatively  specific  meanings,  to  indi- 
cate general  or  less  specific  ideas.  We  find  the  same 
difficulty,  however,  in  speaking  of  vision,  audition,  in- 
telligence, aesthetics,  etc.,  in  the  lower  orders  of  ani- 
mals. To  express  even  approximately  correct  ideas  in 
reference  to  the  latter,  we  are  compelled  to  deanthro- 
pize  words  so  as  to  bring  them  into  correspondence 
with  non-anthropoid  existences. 

Bearing  in  mind,  then,  these  considerations,  shall  we 
find  any  good  grounds  for  disputing,  that  without  con- 
sciousness in  the  atom,  there  can  be  none  in  the  mass;  or 
conversely,  that  since  consciousness — organized  con- 
sciousness, if  the  phrase  be  permitted — is  a  (subjective) 
whole,  corresponding  and  belonging  to  an  organized 


7 

body,  therefore  it  (the  consciousness  of  a  man  e.  g^)  is 
made  up  of,  and  is  but,  the  sum  and  resultant  of  the 
consciousness  corresponding  and  belonging  to  the  con- 
stituent atoms  and  molecules  of  its  proper  body?  If 
the  parts  be  not  conscious,  while  the  whole  is,  then  a 
new  element  has  been  added  to,  or  created  by,  the  com- 
bination, and  the  whole  is  found  to  be  greater  than  the 
sum  of  all  its  parts. 

If  we  arrive  at  the  same  result  by  different  processes 
of  thought,  we  feel  so  much  the  more  convinced  of  the 
correctness  of  our  conclusions;  let  us  proceed,  there- 
fore, to  inquire  into  the  reasons  which  lead  us  to  infer 
the  existence  of  consciousness  in  our  fellows.  How  do 
we  become  convinced  of  the  experience  or  possession  of 
consciousness  by  others?  It  needs  no  argument  to 
show  that  the  only  thing  known  to  any  of  us  is  his  own 
consciousness;  and  yet  all  of  us  are  fully  convinced  of 
the  existence  of  consciousness  in  others,  and  of  a  kind, 
we  conclude,  more  or  less  like  to  our  own.  Indeed,  we 
govern  our  intercourse  with  our  fellows  on  just  this 
presumption.  By  what  process  of  reasoning  do  we  ar- 
rive at  this  conclusion? 

In  general  terms,  we  predicate  consciousness  in  man 
and  animals  when  we  see  them  manifest  change  of 
state — form,  motion,  etc. — following  and  presumably 
consequent  on  changes  in  their  environment,  or  on 
changes  in  their  relations  to  environment.  We  tickle 
them  and  they  laugh,  poke  them  with  a  stick  and  they 
move,  threaten  them  and  they  flee  or  fight.  In  man, 
possessed  as  he  is  with  the  faculty  of  speech,  moreover  j 
we  hear  and  see  him  describe  his  conscious  states  by 
symbols  such  as  we  have  learned  to  use  in  describing 
our  own.  We  see  in  him,  moreover,  movements  indic- 
ative of  this  or  that  emotion,  which  being  experienced 
by  ourselves  would  prompt  the  same  or  similar  move- 
ments. Thus,  by  inference,  from  observing  purely  ob- 


8 

jective  phenomena,  various  in  detail  but  similar  in  es- 
sence, we  become  satisfied  that  others,  like  ourselves, 
are  sentient  and  conscious. 

In  accepting  this  statement,  however,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  consciousness  is  not  the  exclusive 
property  of  any  sharply-defined  group  of  existences; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  is  as  widely  diffused  as  the  extent 
of  our  observations  enables  us  to  judge.  Suppose  we 
examine  the  matter  in  detail: 

Taking  for  granted  the  consciousness  of  the  higher 
order  of  animals,  let  us  descend  the  scale.  An  earth- 
worm, if  we  shake  the  ground  in  which  it  lies,  comes 
out  to  the  light  of  day;  we  touch  it  with  a  stick,  or 
push  it  aside  with  our  foot,  and  it  wriggles  and  attempts 
to  escape.  We  find  no  difficulty  in  conceding  to  it  a 
certain  low  kind  of  consciousness.  But  if  we  touch 
the  leaves  of  a  sensitive  plant  (Mimosa  pudica)  it 
folds  its  pinnae  and  its  branching  leaf-stalks  and 
bends  down  its  petiole.  If  an  insect  alight  on  the  or- 
bicular leaves  of  the  sundew  (Drosera  rotundifolia),  or  a 
small  fragment  of  flesh  be  laid  thereon,  the  leaves  close 
around  the  intruder,  more  slowly,  it  is  true,  but  just 
as  surely  as  a  lurking  spider  closes  on  an  unlucky  fly 
entangled  in  his  web.  The  terminal  pinnae  of  the  leaf 
of  Venus '  fly  trap  (Dwntza  muscipula)  respond  to  the 
touch  of  the  fly,  just  as  surely  as  the  maxillipede  of  a 
crab  or  lobster  responds  to  the  touch  of  a  stick,  or  of 
some  more  juicy  morsel  on  its  serrated  edges. 

Are  these  plants,  then,  conscious  ?  No  ?  Then  our 
method  of  inferring  consciousness,  as  above  set  forth, 
is  inaccurate  and  needs  revision.  Yes?  Then  we  can- 
not stop  here!  All  plants  turn  to  the  light;  in  general 
terms  they  change  their  state  (position)  in  response  to 
change  in  their  environments.  Climbing  plants  revolve 
their  apices  in  search  of  support,  or  bend  their  leaf- 
stalks and  tendrils  around  it  when  found.  The  Des- 


*r 
rxjfc 


I  U 

9 

modium  gyrans  unceasingly  fans  the  air  in  the  sultry 
heat  of  an  Indian  day;  the  Mimosa  (acacias),  Clovers, 
Oxalises,  and  many  other  plants,  spread  out  their  leaves 
to  the  sunshine,  and  fold  them  up  as  darkness  super- 
venes. Calendula,  Oxalis,  Mesembryanthemum,  and  a 
host  of  well-known  flowering  plants  open  their  flowers 
in  the  light  and  warmth  of  the  orb  of  day,  and  close 
them  up  at  night  or  in  gloomy  weather;  and  this  they 
do  day  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  in  frequent  al- 
ternation. The  so-called  infusoria  move  through  the 
surrounding  waters  in  pursuit  of  food,  avoiding  collis- 
ion with  each  other,  but  at  the  proper  time  finding  their 
respective  foods  and  sexual  mates.  Are  these  various 
organisms,  too,  to  be  considered  void  of  consciousness, 
or  the  contrary? 

And  when,  still  descending,  we  come  to  the  inorganic 
world,  and  observe  the  behavior  —  mark  the  word  —  of 
mineral  and  elementary  substances,  we  shall  find  no 
break  in  the  chain  of  evidence  by  which  alone  we  have 
hitherto  recognized,  or  from  which  alone  we  have  hith- 
erto inferred  consciousness. 

If  we  take  a  piece  of  the  metal  potassium,  and  plunge 
it  into  a  vessel  filled  with  benzine,  gasoline,  or  other 
like  fluid,  it  will  remain  quiescent  for  an  indefinite 
period  of  time;  but  change  its  environment  —  plunge  it 
into  a  vessel  filled  with  water  —  and  its  behavior  changes 
instantly.  At  once  the  hitherto  passive  potassium  at- 
tacks the  water,  appropriates  its  oxygen  and  part  of  its 
hydrogen,  and  this  with  such  vehemence  of  motion  as 
to  ignite  the  escaping  portion  of  hydrogen.  Poke  po- 
tassium with  a  stick  of  one  kind  (benzine),  and  it  stirs 
not;  tickle  it  with  a  straw  (of  water),  and  lo!  it  turns 
and  laughs. 

A  piece  of  silver,  however,  may  be  plunged  into  water, 
and  it  will  remain  passive,  quiet;  it  will  give  no  sign 
of  consciousness  of  its  surroundings.  But  plunge  it 


10 

into  nitric  acid  and  see  how  it  responds  to  the  changed 
environment.  Bubbles  of  nitrogen-oxide  gathering  at 
the  surface  of  the  liquid  and  forming  an  orange-col- 
ored atmosphere  above  it,  soon  show  that  it  is  actively 
engaged  in  pulling  to  pieces  the  nitric  acid  in  order  to 
satisfy  its  affinity  (liking)  for  oxygen. 

Shall  I  strain  your  logic  if  I  ask  you  to  admit  that 
these  two  examples — which  might  be  added  to  indefi- 
nitely— show  a  power  in  the  metals  named  to  distin- 
guish between  benzine  and  water,  and  between  water 
and  nitric  acid,  respectively?  Is  it  needful  to  insist 
that  a  necessary  correlative  to  the  power  of  distinguish- 
ing is  consciousness?  There  must  surely  be  cognition 
of  at  least  one  of  the  things  distinguished. 

It  may  be  well  here  to  point  out  the  manifest  differ- 
ences in  kind  and  degree  of  sensitiveness  shown  by 
different  things  and  beings,  as  going  to  explain  why 
the  same  impinging  object — stimulus — does  not  evoke 
consciousness  and  responsive  motions  in  all  alike. 
These  differences  depend,  doubtless,  on  complexity  of 
aggregation,  combination,  or  organization  in  the  sub- 
ject considered.  Plants  and  animals  take  cognizance 
of  light,  warmth,  food ;  the  savage,  in  common  with 
animals,  includes  in  his  cognitions  relations  of  sex  and 
paternity,  friends  and  enemies,  sounds,  the  fitness  of 
weapons,  etc.  The  more  cultivated  groups  of  men,  in 
addition  to  these,  are  sensitive  to  harmonies  of  sound 
and  color,  beauty  of  form  and  motion,  the  involved  re- 
lations of  numbers,  magnitudes,  sentiments  and  laws, 
the  reactions  of  the  various  parts  of  the  cosmos  on  each 
other,  and  the  like.  Minerals  take  cognizance  only  of 
things  closely  related  to  them  by  affinity  (whatever 
that  may  be)  and  close  proximity.  Even  among  men 
of  the  same  race,  and  living  in  society  together,  we  see 
individuals  who  are  utterly  unconscious  of  qualities 
and  entities  which  are  vividly  perceived  by  others;  and 


II 

this  state  of  affairs,  in  the  light  of  the  considerations 
just  set  forth,  is  easily  explicable;  but  on  any  other 
theory  its  explanation  is  beset  with  insuperable  diffi- 
culties. 

If  we  pause  here  to  inquire  how  intelligence  is  re- 
lated to  simple  consciousness,  we  shall  find  that  the 
former  is  founded  on  the  latter.  Those  who  are  born 
blind,  or  deaf,  can  never — other  things  being  equal — be 
as  intelligent  as  those  who  are  furnished  with  their  full 
complement  of  sense-organs.  They  have  fewer  points 
of  contact  with  their  environments,  and  are  less  sensi- 
tive to  certain  impacts  and  certain  qualities  or  motions 
of  the  non-ego.  This  proposition  is  by  implicatidn  ad- 
mitted when  we  express  surprise  at  even  the  mediocre 
attainments  in  the  arts,  or  in  the  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge under  systematic  instruction  by  those  born  blind 
or  deaf.  When  we  speak  of  an  intelligent  man  or 
woman,  we  mean  one  who  has  knowledge  of  things; 
that  is,  one  who  has  cognized  and  is  conscious  of  their 
qualities  and  relations  among  themselves  and  to  him- 
self; and  who,  in  addition,  has  the  power  of  so  modify- 
ing his  own  movements  under  changing  circumstances 
and  relations  as  to  enjoy  a  continuance  of  pleasurable 
consciousness  therefrom;  one  who  is  able  to  adapt  him- 
self to  the  requirements  of  the  moment,  and  to  do  what 
is  fit  under  changing  and  enlarged  conditions.  But 
this — reduced  to  the  lowest  terms — is  cognition  of  the 
diverse  and  complicated  motions  outside,  and  ability  to 
find  the  resultant  of  these  and  his  own  proper  motion. 
And  the  greater  the  knowledge — that  is,  the  broader 
the  area,  and  the  deeper  the  stream  of  consciousness, 
and  the  greater  the  power  of  adaptation — the  greater 
the  intelligence. 

Now  if  we  attempt  to  account  for  the  existence  of  intel- 
ligence in  the  higher  order  of  beings  and  man,  we  can 
not  do  so,  satisfactorily,  on  any  other  theory  than  this, 


12 

namely:  that  matter  throughout  the  cosmos  possesses, 
even  in  its  ultimate  atoms,  the  essential  element  of  con- 
sciousnes  and  intelligence,  which  is  this:  cognition  of 
impact  of  the  non-ego,  and  the  tendency  on  impact  to  change 
of  motion  in  the  path  or  line  of  least  resistance;  in  other 
words :  cognition  of  impact  of  the  non-ego,  and  the  tendency 
to  adopt  the  motion  of  the  impinging  body  (atom,  molecule, 
etc.)  to  the  extent  of  its  relative  quantity  and  quality.  And 
the  more  carefully  we  consider  this  proposition,  the  more 
clearly  shall  we  find  it  to  formulate  a  definition  of  intelli- 
gence; knowledge  of  the  environment  and  conscious  or- 
dering of  the  life — motions — to  fit;  inherent  power  of 
adaptation. 

That  such  a  universality  of  this  sensitiveness  to  change 
of  environment  is  found  in  nature,  we1  have  learned 
in  our  previous  studies  herein;  and  although  the  differ- 
ences in  degree  are  great  in  the  various  orders  of  things, 
e.  g.,  in  minerals  to  chemical  qualities,  in  plants  to  sun- 
shine, the  touch  of  insects,  supporting  bodies  and  the 
like,  in  man,  extending  to  those  relations  we  call  intel- 
lectual, emotional,  social  and  ethical;  nevertheless,  the 
difference  between  the  range  of  the  savage  and  that  of 
highly  cultivated  man  is  scarcely  greater  than  that  be- 
tween the  savage  and  some  of  the  lower  animals,  or  than 
that  between  these  latter  and  the  conspicuously  sensitive 
plants.  Indeed,  this  power  of  adaptive  modification 
throughout  organic  nature,  having  for  its  basis  conscious- 
ness of  impact  of  surrounding  existences,  appears  to  be 
the  fundamental  source  of  EVOLUTION;  and  here  we  per- 
ceive no  breach  of  continuity,  no  beginning,  no  end. 

There  are  but  two  theories  by  which  to  explain  the  ex- 
istence and  manifestation  of  intelligence  seen  throughout 
nature:  either  the  intelligence  is  outside  of  a  purely  pas- 
sive and  plastic  material,  which  receives  the  impress  and 
motions  of  the  external  force;  or,  in  the  classic  words  of 
Tyndal,  "in  matter  *  •*  (is)  the  promise  and  potency 


of  all  terrestrial  life"  including,  of  course,  its  intelli- 
gence. 

Shall  we,  then,  say  that  matter  is  intelligent?  I  see  no 
way  of  escape  from  this  conclusion,  startling  as  the  as- 
sertion may  appear.  If  we  duly  estimate  the  value  of  the 
facts  here  passed  in  review,  and  bear  in  mind  the  consid- 
erations previously  set  forth,  relative  to  the  difficulties 
encountered  in  the  use  of  words  in  new  connections,  we 
must  at  least  find  the  raw  material  of  intelligence  in  the 
raw  material  of  living  beings — matter. 

With  this  view  of  things,  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves 
to  search  for  the  "beginnings  of  life" — the  time  and  place 
when  and  where  "dead  matter"  became  organic  and  "liv- 
ing." The  beginnings  of  life  are  in  the  "stuff"  of  which 
things  consist. 

However,  not  to  leave  the  question  without  considering 
possible  objections,  let  us  proceed  to  review  some  of  these. 
During  sleep,  consciousness  is  said  to  be  abolished;  our 
first  impressions  on  awaking  connect  themselves  with 
those  last  experienced  before  falling  asleep;  and  were  it 
not  for  the  different  condition  of  surrounding  things,  e.g. 
the  clock-hands,  the  sun's  altitude,  the  activity  of  our  fel- 
lows, joined  to  certain  internal  feelings  of  rest,  hunger, 
etc.,  which  have  supervened,  we  should  not  know  that 
any  interval  had  elapsed.  The  same  condition,  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  obtains  in  the  unconsciousness 
and  delirium  of  coma  and  fever,  of  alcoholic  and  other  in- 
toxications, of  syncope  and  epileptic  paroxysms,  somnam- 
bulistic and  cataleptic  states,  and  as  caused  by  blows  and 
other  injuries  to  the  encephalon.  At  first  blush  it  would 
appear  that  the  proper  inference  to  be  drawn  from  these 
facts  is  this,  namely:  that  consciousness  is  an  accompa- 
niment only  of  cerebral  activity,  and  that,  therefore,  it 
must  be  denied  of  those  organisms  which  are  not  pro- 
vided with  cephalic  ganglia,  and  a  fortiori  of  those 


14 

which  are  entirely  devoid  of  a  nervous  apparatus,  and  of 
plants  and  minerals. 

But  a  critical  examination  of  the  case  in  the  light  of 
the  philosophy  of  consciousness  will,  I  think,  show  that 
this  inference  is  false,  and  that,  so  far  from  consciousness 
per  se  being  absent  in  any  of  the  cases  adduced,  it  is  only 
the  co-ordinated  consciousness  of  the  complete  organism 
which  is  thus  temporarily  abolished. 

Examine  first  the  case  of  sleep:  This  we  know  is  fre- 
quently accompanied  by  dreaming — which  may  be  seen 
by  observing  the  subject  during  its  continuance — and  yet 
the  dreams  may  not  be  remembered  on  awaking,  and  the 
answer  to  an  inquiry,  "Did  you  dream?"  will  be  uNo,  I 
remember  nothing  since  falling  asleep."  Conversation 
may,  in  many  instances,  be  carried  on  with  sleepers,  who, 
on  awaking,  will  tell  you  that  they  have  not  dreamed, 
and  they  retain  no  memory  of  anything  done  or  said.  In 
addition  to  this,  we  have  evidence  that  during  sleep  the 
subject  is  conscious  of  pressure,  change  of  temperature, 
etc.,  for  he  will  turn  for  change  of  position  and  cover  up 
with  the  bed-clothes.  Similarly,  in  the  other — abnormal 
-• — conditions  mentioned,  as  sleep-walking,  catalepsy,  etc., 
evidences  are  not  wanting  of  sensitiveness  to  external  in- 
fluences and  objects,  and  of  quasi-intelligent  conduct  in 
relation  thereto. 

In  like  manner,  during  the  delirium  of  coma  and  fever, 
while  the  patient  on  recovery  will  tell  you  that  the  last 
thing  remembered  is  this  or  that  occurrence  previous  to 
the  delirium,  and  that  he  is  ignorant  of  the  length  of 
time  which  has  passed  since,  the  attendants  know  that 
meanwhile  he  has  given  evidences  of  consciousness  (and 
intelligence)  in  numerous  instances,  replied  to  questions, 
obeyed  orders,  eaten  food  and  swallowed  drink.  For 
reasons,  however,  to  be  afterward  discussed,  the  two  sets 
of  experience,  namely:  that  during  the  normal  state,  and 
this  during  the  delirium,  etc.,  are  in  no  way  connected, 


j 5*...  .-..•..::  t.*rt  :••::.••>. 

and  hence  are  not  recalled  by  association ;  they  are  not 
related  nor  continuous,  and  hence  do  not  suggest  each 
other. 

On  this  subject,  the  remarks  of  Herbert  Spencer,  in  his 
chapter  on  ^Estho-physiology  (Prin.  of  Psych.,  Vol.  I,  p. 
105,  Am.  Ed.),  are  to  the  point:  "For  the  recognition  of 
a  sensation  as  such,  or  such,  necesitates  the  bringing  of 
it  into  relation  with  the  continuous  series  of  sentient 
states,  from  some  of  which,  simultaneously  experienced, 
it  is  dissociated  by  perceived  unlikeness,  and  with  others 
of  which,  previously  experienced,  it  is  associated  by  per- 
ceived likeness;  and  the  implied  comparisons  of  sentient 
states  are  impossible  unless  the  correlative  nervous 
changes  are  put  in  connection  at  one  place.  It  does  not 
follow,  as  at  first  seems,  that  feelings  are  never  located  in 
the  inferior  nerve-centers.  On  the  contrary,  it  may  well 
be  that  in  lower  types  the  homologues  of  these  inferior 
centers  are  the  seats  of  consciousness."  Thus  far  Spencer. 

It  may  be,  and  I  think  it  likely,  that  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  we  of  the  present  day,  with  our  extensive  and  rel- 
atively complex  knowledge,  are  quite  unable  to  realize 
the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  savages  or  children  in  view 
of  this  or  that  phenomenon — to  us  easily  explicable  be- 
cause already  classified  and  correlated — so  the  extensive, 
heterogeneous  and  complete  consciousness  of  the  enceph- 
alon  is  unable  to  realize  the  less  complete  and  frag- 
mentary consciousness  experienced  by  the  lower  nerve- 
centers  and  is  unable  to  unify  them  with  the  series  with 
which  memory  backs  up  those  of  the  present  moment. 

In  this  manner  only  can  be  explained  the  fact  of  the 
oblivion  in  which  the  feelings  and  experiences  of  very 
early  childhood  are  buried;  they  are  so  utterly  incongru- 
ous with  those  of  the  present  time  as  to  be — so  to  speak — 
incommensurable. 

This  subject  is  so  replete  with  interest,  and  so  many 
instances  might  be  cited  from  the  annals  of  mental  path- 


i6 

ology  and  psychology  corroborative  of  the  views  here  set 
forth,  that  one  is  loth  to  close  its  presentation  in  such 
short  order,  but  the  limits  of  time  prescribed  by  the  oc- 
casion have  already  been  overpassed;  I  shall,  therefore, 
close  here,  and  submit  the  question  to  your  consideration 
and  discussion. 


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PAT.  JAN.  21.  1908 


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